A Personal Journal, by the Son of One of the Nineteenth
Century's Leading Master-Criminals

Sunday, July 06, 2008

L'Academie Sinistaire (Part One)

The Syndicate's trade mission to Uganda, 1974 (with myself on the far left, in the distinctive devil-rabbit mask), during which it was my privilege to explain the potential of Evil Ventriloquism to General Amin. Mere minutes after this photograph was taken, the gentleman on the right was sentenced to execution, having apparently been heard to say: 'Who d'you think you are, fatty, the King of Scotland?'

I have already stated that my father sired me with the express desire of creating an heir, a first-born son to continue the family name should he somehow forget the secret of eternal life, or suffer some accident that might preclude any possibility of his returning from the grave. It must be said that as a child, I showed great promise in this direction, and it was agreed in underworld circles that I would be a most suitable replacement if the unthinkable were to occur. My father was determined that I should begin at the bottom, both figuratively and literally, as a "fag" to one of the less seemly gang-lords of nineteenth-century Limehouse. The concept of "fag" was taken a great deal more literally in those days, since one's elders would inevitably feel a deep-seated religious shame after exposing an underling to their bestial inclinations, and many fine young catamites were set alight after the act as a method of purging their masters' guilt. Of course, it was always part of my "design brief" that I should be flame-retardant, hence my father's interference in the lactations of my mother [see Family]. Indeed, I once spited my employer by immolating myself during the cruel act of sodomy, thus earning myself the nickname "Johnny Kebab". This alone was enough to guarantee my notoriety, even before I came of age.

And so, as I entered puberty, I became the youngest-ever initiate of l'Academie Sinistaire in Paris. Across the centuries, this institution has been responsible for some of the world's most impressively monstrous and amoral talent. Springheeled Jack; Chairman Mao; Idi Amin; that man who tried to rape Steven Spielberg; all of them show clear signs of the academy's influence or conditioning. While the Royal Society has oft been referred to as "The Invisible College", l'Academie Sinistaire has become known as "The Invisible College That's Probably Standing Behind You Right Now". As a highly-regarded figure in such circles, my father merely had to pull a few strings in order to guarantee my interview with the academy's Five-Man Council, having already ensured that strings were attached to the limbs of over half its members. He saw himself as the great puppet-master of the underworld, and had little time for the purely metaphorical.

The Five-Man Council was, and is, the inner circle of the academy. In terms of both deviousness and deviousity, its members are considered to be the elite of the elite. Whereas a competent sinister mastermind is capable of making plans within plans, and a true Napoleon of Crime may be able to conceive of plans within plans within plans (or, at best, plans within plans within plans within plans), the members of the Five-Man Council are capable of operating at a level of nine pico-plans. Many of these plans are so intricate that the details are invisible to the naked eye, the naked eye in question being that of Sir Robert Peel, whose left iris was scientifically stripped in 1850 as a method of testing plan-visibility. At the time of my own initiation, the Five-Man Council consisted of individuals whose criminal exploits would become the stuff of legend during the twentieth century. The Man Who Sold the World; the Man With the Golden Gun; the Man Who Shot Liberty Valance; the Man Who Broke the Bank at Monte Carlo; and Natalie Imbruglia.

The presence of Miss Imbruglia on the Council would come as a surprise to many, yet it should be pointed out that she was very much a "stop-gap" member of the assembly, hurriedly introduced to the upper ranks of the academy after the disgrace of the Man With the Child in His Eyes. The Man With the Child in His Eyes had always been regarded as something of a weak link, but it had eventually been pointed out that having a child in one's eyes is in no way actually sinister, just hugely unsanitary. Worse, it had come to light that the child had only become lodged there by accident. For years, it had been assumed that there must have been some plan behind it, perhaps a scheme so convoluted that even the other four Men remained ignorant of its true nature. But it had emerged that some time earlier, he had simply been cycling along a dirt track when a child had been thrown up into his eyes along with the usual dust and grit. He had never been able to remove it, and had thus spent some years nurturing it as an affectation.

The day of my initiation into the academy was perhaps the proudest of my life, and even now, I have difficulty remembering this period of my existence without a mixture of profound melancholy and curious arousal. I had no way of knowing that within a few short years, I would find myself leaving l'Academie Sinistaire in disgrace, or that this was the beginning of a schism between myself and my father which would never be healed.

About the Author

For now, the true author of this journal must remain nameless, voiceless, and 28% more shrouded in mystery than any other shadowy figure from the murky London underworld of the late 1800s. He must also remain faceless, since medical science has not yet found a way to reverse the side-effects of what he simply calls "the process" (patented 1894, outlawed 1895, drug-dumped in Somalia 1996). We can only tell you that:

1. He's the son of one of the three leading criminal masterminds of the nineteenth century. Oh, you know. The one with the moustache.

2. He's the co-founder of the White Peacock Arms Company, the only weapons manufacturer which still takes pride in breeding giant scorpions for the Oriental market as well as producing landmines for regimes across the globe. He's also the only living CEO of the Company, in accordance with the principles of natural selection.

3. His reminiscences of his own century, and his thoughts on our "modern" age, have been transcribed to the aethernet in 2008 by Lawrence Miles.

The Archive

The Shop

This week's top-selling items from the White Peacock Arms Catalogue...

1. The Kitten Grenade

It kills with cuteness! (Cat. No. 04804815.)

2. The Mungling Helmet

Anyone caught in its baleful Medusa-like stare is transformed into the likeness of Roald Dahl. Banned as a weapon under six international conventions, it's available now after being reclassified as a party novelty. (Cat. No. 00551943.)

3. The My-Little-Pony Gun

Our best-selling and most versatile firearm, the My-Little-Pony gun fires three types of pony: Butterscotch for sniper fire, Bluebell for maximum penetration, or Peachblossom for crowd dispersal. (Cat. No. 01320875.) See also the historical footnote below.

More About the My-Little-Pony Gun

This product has a long and distinguished provenance. Though the Pony gun itself was developed in the 1980s as a camera-friendly riot control weapon for the South African market, it was modelled on the "swine cannons" used during the First Crusade, circa 1098 AD. These devices would fire whole pigs over the walls of Muslim cities, the subsequent porksplosion causing both loss of life and gratuitous offence. As fans of popular culture will know, this was the inspiration for the line from the Beatles' classic "I Am the Walrus": 'See how they run, like pigs from a gun.'

About Beasthouse.co.uk

The original Beasthouse was a revolutionary "eugenics boutique" first opened in 1897, where the techniques pioneered by Dr Alphonse Moreau allowed affluent customers to have their favourite servants cross-bred with their pets. In fact, the establishment was originally named "Beasthouse & Co (UK)": the name was shortened after it began receiving packages intended for "Bagpuss & Co", a non-capitalist social engineering experiment which had recently been opened in the same neighbourhood, disguised as a shop. "Beasthouse.co.uk" has been the address ever since.

Credits

The text of The Beasthouse is copyright of the author, 2008. The Devil-Rabbit symbol is copyright of Lawrence Miles, 2006. Other illustrations have been stolen from various sources by a gang of urchins and ne'er-do-wells. With special thanks to Elise Harris and Camille Wesner.